His eyes squeeze shut against the pain as he releases a groan.
The adrenaline coursing through my veins eases the churning of my stomach.
My grip tightens.
I strike his other cheek.
My chest heaves, not from effort but some twisted melange of excitement, righteous vengeance, and nausea in equal measure. Though my mind seems to be having a hard time reconciling the fact that I am physicallywoundingsomeone wearing the mask of a man I once loved.Still love.
A mask that I am now forced to mourn.
Watching blood bead in thin lines against the battered skin of his cheeks causes my own face to burn with sympathy pains, and I have to grind my teeth against the hurricane of emotion muddying my thoughts.
Thessaly.
Thessaly.
Thessaly.
I only need my sweet, selfless friend’s name and all the sunshine he cast into my dark existence to strengthen me.
The next strike is less painful—for me, obviously.
Lucen, on the other hand, is beginning to sweat.
“Very clever, this reed cane. You could beat someone unconscious with it, without ever actually doing irreparable harm.”
Soon enough, the reed cane is splitting, my arm is heavy from exhaustion, and still, my fury has not been sated.
It doesn’t take morethan a handful of hours before Thessaly’s elixir begins to wear off. Lucen can finally manage words and strain against his binds. His wounds heal within mere minutes after I mark him.
It is exhausting.
Who knew torture would prove to be so strenuous?
Now that he can speak, I’ve finally been able to start my interrogation.
Namely, what the fuck was the point of all this?
Why did Thessaly have to die?
As per usual, his answers remain elusive.
At first glance, one might think Thessaly was only an unfortunate casualty.
But Lucen has more money than he knows what to do with. Why would he have Thessaly robbed in the first place? Surely,Thessaly didn’t need to die, whether or not Lucen had only ever intended to force me into working at his brothel.
None of it makes sense.
I cannot bring myself to kill him until I cure this incessant itch in the back of my mind, and Lucen’s unwavering silence, despite all the torture I’ve inflicted upon him, only further raises my suspicions.
Fisting the front of his hair, I wrench his head up.
“You’ll force me to begin removing extremities if you don’t start giving me answers, Lucen.”
For all his pomp, Lucen’s pain tolerance, mental fortitude, and unwavering loyalty to whatever it is he’s hiding are remarkable.
I grind my teeth. “Let’s start with something simple.”